They, The 141
by ClusiveC
Summary: World War 3 is over. It's time for Modern Warfare 4 to take place. Ghost and the 141 have won. Makarov is dead, but he said that all it took was the "Will" of a single man. He was wrong. Those problems, barely a year and a half ago, seem trivial to the storm that is brewing.
1. Chapter 1

**ClusiveC**

_**They, the 141**_

**- **Part I: Loose Ends, Tied -

**Camrose, Alberta, Canada**

**May 17**

Abel Loomis sat in the passenger seat of a small 4-door car, gazing out the window at the night time scene of street lights as they passed by them. He hadn't been looking forward to the recon assignment in Camrose, but the JTF2 felt that it was a necessary observation, so he really didn't have much of a choice. The damned city had a lot of farmland and open grounds with a small population, a nice place to live a relaxed lifestyle. Snowflakes fell and withered away, pasting the grassy terrain with a white makeover. This wasn't a job for the JTF2. They should've sent someone else instead. Abel shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable as they passed by lonely buildings and milky street lights. He sighed, figuring that this little "stakeout" would be easy enough, and pulled the zipper up on his black hoody.

"We're gettin' close to the target building. Right on schedule." Briant Smith said as he turned the steering wheel of the car, heading down a street on the right.

"Yeah..." Abel said, sitting up in his seat. "I just hope this goes smoothly." Briant was the guy in charge for this run. He was a veteran in the Joint Task Force 2, seeing more action than most of the others. Abel liked the guy.

The car slowed down and came to a halt, and the motor sputtered away and turned off. They were parked in the shadows on the side of a long street, observing a hotel at the far end of the road. The streetlights cast an eerie glow across some of the road, illuminating the white snow and the dark night. It reminded Abel of the days when he was a young kid, riding around town at night with his mom and dozing off in the back seat of the car. Those were the good days, back when he had no responsibilities. Abel missed that era, sometimes.

"It's gonna be a minute before we get some activity." Briant said, checking the time on his wrist watch. "I'll go ahead and take first watch."

Abel was okay with that. He lifted the hood of his jacket, covering his head with it, and let the seat back a little bit. He closed his eyes and waited for the sleep to overtake him.

The scene reminded Abel of something that you see in a detective movie, where two guys go and wait outside a building for someone, and then start following that person. This situation wasn't much different from that. Abel was watching the hotel carefully. Over the time, several vehicles had come and gone, but they hadn't got sight of the target yet. He knew it was only a matter of time now.

Snow continued to pelt the windshield, melting away slowly. Other than the street lights, the road was only lit by the full moon in the sky overhead. Rats would cross the street, going about their little lives and crawling enthusiastically. Abel considered switching the radio on, but decided against it. There wasn't anything to listen to this time of night, and he wasn't sure what radio stations Camrose picked up anyway. Briant was snoring slightly in the driver seat, passed out completely. That was the only thing that Abel could hear right now. He stuck a piece of gum into his mouth and almost spat it out. It was mint flavor, and he hated mint flavor. He wadded the wrapper up and sat it in the middle of the cupholder. Abel glanced at the watch on his wrist, noting that it was nearly 0200.

The doors of the hotel opened up and Abel had a hard time seeing. He picked up the pair of binoculars off of the dashboard and eyed the man walking into the parking lot towards a waiting car, surrounded by several body guards.

"Briant." Abel said, still looking throught the binoculars. He waited 3 seconds before he realized that Briant was still asleep. "Briant." He said a little louder as he reached over and shoved him. Briant sat up, blinking rapidly and adjusting his eyesight. "Target confirmed." Abel muttered.

"Let me look." Briant said, reaching over and snatching the binoculars from Abel. He eyed through them for a few seconds. "Yep. That's definitely him. But where's the seller?" He asked.

They both heard footsteps approaching, fast, and reacted instantly. Abel glanced over his shoulder for a brief second but couldn't see anything. He reached for his sidearm but was already too late. The glass shattered as someone broke open the windows on both the driver and the passenger side. Glass flew through the tight space and Abel shielded his eyes. An arm reached in through the window, opening the door and sticking the barrel of a weapon in Abel's face. He couldn't see for shit, but he could hear some loud yelling. A big hand grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and hauled him out of the car, tossing him onto the thick snow and the ground.

He landed with a hard thud, immediately feeling the cold of the night time air and snow. A flashlight was shining right into his face, blinding his vision. He could barely make out that there was a handful of guys standing around the car, all of them carrying weapons. Abel was already considering his options when the attackers spoke.

"What do we do with 'em?" The one aiming his rifle at Abel asked. Abel's heart beat began to increase rapidly, thumping loudly in his chest.

"Kill that one. We're taking the other one with us." A voice said, crisp and cold.

There was a loud bang as they shot Briant on the opposite side of the car. For a second, he couldn't believe it. They'd been caught slipping, and Briant was already dead. Abel's heart skipped a beat and he looked up into the barrel of a rifle. He felt the sharp crack of the butt of the rifle and everything went black on him.

* * *

Gary "Roach" Sanderson sat in the situation room of the TF141 outpost located on a desolate island off the coast of the United Kingdom. Maps were posted all over the walls, marked with random X's and circles and other designations. Pictures of faces were hung up, displaying some of the world's most wanted terrorists and other criminals. Some of these faces were already X'ed out, like that of Makarov. But he was just a memory now. The boundaries had already shifted. The stakes had already risen even higher. It was a whole new ball game now, and Gary was familiarized with the rules. In the front of the room, Price was giving them an outline of what was going on. Some serious shit had happened not too long ago, and the 141 was locking onto the case.

"Either way, Joint Task Force 2 is calling for blood, but they don't have anybody to cut. Yet." Price said, flipping to the next slide on an onscreen presentation. "Briant Smith and Abel Loomis were running a routine op. Get in, confirm the targets, and figure out exactly what in the hell they were dealing with. Briant is dead, and Abel is MIA." Price told them, as the faces of two JTF2 operators appeared on the screen. They both looked reasonably fresh and young. Abel Loomis' picture had him showing a one sided smile.

"The targets - are these the phantoms we've been chasing?" Ghost asked. He was studying the screen carefully.

"That's what these two guys were trying to find out. Chances are pretty high that it's them. Either way, we're going to have a joint op to move in and extract the high value target - Thaddeus Ombridge." Price said as he flipped to another slide in the presentation. Gary looked at a picture of a short, balding man with a deep cut on his right cheek. "Thaddeus was the supplier for the transaction that happened that night. JTF2 was supposed to figure out what it was that he supplied, but that didn't go too well, and they lost two guys. So now it gets serious. Thaddeus has his own little private army, operating out of Yerevan, Armenia. Objective is simple. We go in, we get the target, we get out. His men are low-class, but don't let that make you sloppy. We leave tomorrow morning at 0500." Price said, snapping off the presentation and waiting for any questions. Gary relaxed in his seat and digested the information. Somebody somewhere was pulling some serious strings. This thing could get bigger than the deal with Makarov barely a year ago. They were behind on information, but that would cease to exist tomorrow. As long as they captured the Thaddeus guy. Mouths would have to be shut, questions would have to be asked, and faces would have to be marked out. Once again, the playing field was shifting and mobilizing on a monumental scale. And the TF141 would have to get with the program to stop this thing from exploding.

"You said this was a joint op. Who are we working with here?" Ghost asked Price.

"The 144 are finally taking an interest in this, but they're just the fall back force. We're taking some of their guys with us as a support role, in case things go sour. They won't be in the main assault, but they'll provide overwatch." Price told everybody in the room.

The Task Force 144 was much bigger than the 141, but they didn't like to get dirty. They usually took up those support roles, staying out of the main fray, but sticking close enough to be their in case someone needed them. Despite their large numbers, their group probably had the smallest track record out of all of them. Even 142 had more playtime out in the field. And they were nearly as small as the 141.

Gary stood up from his chair, stretching and loosening his muscles. The room smelled of grit and sweat, and he needed some fresh air. It was hot inside their. He walked out of the door and took a look down a long hallway that led outside. The walls were lined with doors and other dark rooms where stuff went down. The lights in the hall were straining to illuminate the interior, and some of them were flickering away. Gary never really liked the dark and gritty atmosphere of the 141 outpost on this island, but he usually ended up here more than any of the other posts. The outside was great, though. He walked down the hall, passing by another 141 operator on the way, and stepped outside.

A cool breeze from the ocean immediately revived Gary's mood. All around, the only thing you could see was water. Waves splashed onto the beach surrounding the compound, washing away sand and creating a constant background noise of splashing water. You could smell the freshness of it. The hot sun was battering down on him, but he didn't care. Not long ago, he'd spent weeks locked up inside a terrorist compound with no daylight, waiting for the rescue team. The sun was a beautiful friend to him now.

"So, wha 'dyou think?" Gary heard a voice ask him. He looked to his left and saw Rachel. He snapped out of his daydream.

"I've got a bad feeling about all of this." He said to her.

"You say that about everything." Rachel told him, looking up into his eyes. She had short black hair and dark blue eyes, with a small nose. And she was short.

"A JTF2 operator was killed. And they took one of the guys with them. I think this is going to get bigger than that stuff with Makarov, and I think it's more than one person." Gary said, looking off at the endless ocean. He could sit down and watch those waves crashing into shore all day long.

"What makes you think that?" She asked him. Her yellowish skin was bright in the sunlight. Gary thought for a second.

"It's just a feeling." He told her. That wasn't entirely true. He had some actual reasons to suspect that they were dealing with an array of guys. Mainly due to some things that had happened back when he was inside that compound for those three weeks. But for the most part, it was mostly just a feeling.

"Well, I'm going to get some rest." Rachel said. She walked away, heading to the barracks section of the compound. Gary watched her as she left until she was out of sight, and then found a large rock and sat on top of it. It was big and flat on the top, which was okay with him. Other times when he was here, he would sit on this rock at night and watch the sky. Over the time, he'd gotten used to sitting on it's hard surface. Plus, it was shaded by a tree. He relaxed on top of it, then he watched the ocean waves, always moving, never resting, and thought critically for a while. He hoped that he wasn't right, but either way, somebody had something up their sleeve. Two Canadian special forces guys, gone. One dead, one captured.

It was the Task Force's turn. It was their move. They had to play their cards right. Starting with tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **I made a change to Ghost's first and last name. Just making sure that there is no confusion on that part.

**_They, The 141_**

**- **Part II: Loose Ends, Tied -

**Several months ago, **

**Saint Petersburg, Russia.**

_"All it takes, is the will of a single man." - Vladimir A. Makarov_

Gary "Roach" Sanderson had his hands tied up behind his back, sitting on his knees, weakened considerably. He hung his head, not caring to look up, and watched as a single drop of blood fell from his forehead and pelted the floor. He was breathing heavily, in the center of a small room. The single light on the ceiling was weak, struggling to keep a shine inside the small dark space. His head hurt like hell. He could hear voices outside the door. They were speaking english, but they had differenct accents. Gary didn't care. He was trying to come up with an escape plan. But it was no good. He couldn't remember the layout of the building because he was knocked out when they hauled him inside. He couldn't even remember what had happened. Him and Ghost had been undercover. Somewhere in Russia. _Saint Petersburg, _Gary recalled. But he couldn't remember what they were in Russia for in the first place.

His head hurt like hell.

He tried to ignore the pain, and Gary noticed that he still had the same clothes on that he had when he'd been taken. He remembered that much, because the outfit was plain for a change, just the way he liked it. A grey T-shirt, blue jeans, and some sneakers. There was someting missing though. A hat. A baseball cap, in fact. He had no idea where that was. There was dried blood all over his grey shirt, making it look like some type of camoflauge. That long black hair that he'd forgot to cut was still hanging over his eyes, and he couldn't brush it out the way.

His head hurt like hell. He centered the pain in his head, boxing it off like a cage, and pressured it into submission. _I've been through much worse, a headache isn't anything to me, _he told himself. No good. The pain was ridiculous. He almost laughed at it.

The voices outside the door got louder. Someone was coming. Gary willed himself to look up at the door, squinting his eyes at the sudden rush in of bright light. For a second, he couldn't make out anything. Then his eyes adjusted. Two people had walked in on him, a man and a woman.

"You're up, finally. Hope you slept well. It's time to get some answers." The man spoke. He had a thick Australian accent. A light mustache hung below his nose, and his eyes were small and dim. It was a short guy with a suit. Gary figured that if the guy had a sister, she was probably taller than him. He probably used to get picked on by her when he was a kid, for being short.

"He'll talk. They always talk." This time, it was the lady who was speaking. Her accent wasn't Australian, Gary noticed immediately. She was average height. Her voice was even and direct, and somewhat cold.

The man stepped forward, getting right in front of Gary. He looked much taller, up close. Gary noticed the light scar running from the man's forehead and into his hair.

"You can start by telling me who you work for. And why would one man be snooping around St. Petersburg, tailing me." The guy's long nose scrunched up a little, making him look smug and stupid. Gary laughed. The man didn't like that, getting a look of frustration on his face.

"What do you want me to say?" Gary asked, smirking. The man just got even angrier, looking as if he wanted to kill Gary. "Okay, okay, I'll tell ya. But you gotta promise not to tell anyone." Gary told him, smiling. "Your sister got mad... Because I rejected her. Hell, I even got slapped. I followed you around to make sure she didn't tell you anything to make you look for me. And I got caught." Gary said, laughing. "You got me."

Gary was smiling. The interrogator wasn't. He raised a boot and kicked Gary in the head - hard.

* * *

Gary woke up some time later. Ironically, his head wasn't in excruciating pain anymore. There was dried blood caked all over his face. He spat out a wad of spit and blood, the wad smacking against the floor and splattering. _Guess he doesn't like for guys to mess with his sister. _The door to the room was open, brightening the gloomy interior and allowing Gary to see outside. There were several people surrounding a table, discussing something that Gary didn't have the energy to listen to. Maps, computer screens, and pictures filled the outside room. He had no idea what had happened to Ghost. He couldn't remember if Ghost had been with him the time he got captured. He struggled to his knees to get a better look outside, but someone stepped in the doorway, blocking his view. The woman from earlier.

She was wearing a hoody pullover jacket, ragged blue jean pants, and some sneakers. Gary thought it was odd that she'd be wearing something so casual, when the guy with the sister had been wearing a suit. She stepped lightly across the floor into the room.

"You're going to die, you know." She told Gary, sharp and direct. Gary just shrugged.

"Yeah. I guess it would be boring if I lived forever, you know."

"It's only a matter of time before you get a bullet." Her hand mimicked a pistol, firing at Gary. She had pale white skin.

"It's funny you should say that." Gary said. She ignored him.

"But not before we break you and get what we want out of you." That sharp, determined, even voice. It would be silenced, someday. Gary might not be the one to do it. He might get killed by that bullet she was talking about, before it happened. But it wouldn't be long before all of these people got theirs.

" 'Cause I'm gonna get out of these handcuffs." Gary told her, looking directly into her eyes. "And I'm going to kill you and every single person in this building." That was true. Gary would certify that. The instant that he got the chance, he'd be out of the cuffs and already on his way to killing all of these people.

She ignored him again, turning around and stepping out of the room. His eyes followed her out of the room, until she was out of sight. The scene outside had died down some. No more discussion over a table. Just some random people walking around, carrying a various assortment of rifles and SMGs. They had random armor and uniform. Gary didn't give a damn. He activated the critical thinking part of his brain, putting it on full power, trying to conjure up a way to get out.

Actually, Gary _did _give a damn. He had some information on these guys. He came to the conclusion that these people were some sort of illegal organization, by far. This wasn't a private military company, that was obvious. These were a bunch of mercenaries. Their equipment varied too much to be a military company. The leader of a PMC would order a set number of identical equipment for his troops. Like, 200 Steyr AUG A3's, or 200 Russian AK-74's. That told him that these people were most likely the phantom group that Task Force had been looking for, these past months.

Not only that, but he knew for sure that Ghost was still out there somewhere. They thought that it was a one man operation. They had no idea Ghost had been on the job with Gary. That also proved that Ghost hadn't been with Gary when they captured him. He couldn't remember a thing about the progress of the job itself. They must have split up for some reason. Gary didn't know how long he'd been inside the room. A long time, no doubt. His muscles felt weak and wobbly, as if he'd been lying for a while. That meant that Ghost was on the move, searching for him. He couldn't recall the exact timeline of the operation, but he knew that it wasn't supposed to be long. It was supposed to be a clean get in, recon, get out.

Gary scanned the outside room. Maps, computer screens, pictures. From what Gary could make out, the pictures were snapshots of highly populated cities. All of them were picures of 'important' buildings. The clock tower with the names of dead SAS troopers - United Kingdom. The great Eiffel tower - France. The Frankfurt Airport - Germany.

_What the hell? _

Gary heard distinct footsteps approaching. They were hard and crisp, snapping on the floor. The short guy with the sister and the suit walked into the door way, looking mad and stupid. He stepped up to Gary, looming over him as he'd done before. The man smelled of grime and sweat, matching his dirty look. It ignored the hell out of Gary. That woman followed him in as well, hanging back and watching Gary closely.

"You need to understand one important fact. This is _not _a game. Speak or die. It's your choice." His words sounded like he growled them out, roughly. Gary kept his mouth shut. "Who are you, and what are you here for?" The man stepped a little closer, towering over Gary. Gary figured that the guy probably loved to make him self look big and bad, due to his short height. _Same height as Allen. _Once again, Gary didn't open his mouth.

He earned a hard kick to the head for that one. Blood flew from his mouth and he collapsed to the floor, his head swimming in pain. He had a ridiculous head ache.

"Tell me why you were here!" The room felt dark and black even though the light from the outside room illuminated it. Gary couldn't think clearly.

"I already told you." Gary said weakly, struggling to get the words out. "I turned your sister down, and she got pissed off at me."

Gary felt a sharp crack as the guy kicked him in the chest and stomache, at least 5 times. His body felt rigid, as if it would fall apart. He groaned, coughing up a wad of blood. He shook violently.

"I've got all day." The man said. Gary was hardly paying any attention.

"That really hurt." He managed to say, weakly. _Where in the hell is Ghost!_

"That was nothing."

"Good. I was afraid that you had already given me your best shot."

* * *

Abden "Ghost" Carlisle parked the van, filled with a team of TF 141 operators, one block away from the compound where they couldn't be seen. Spotters stood watch in towers, overlooking anything that approached them. Three more sentries, patrolling the outer perimeter of the main gate. Even more inside the gate.

"So we're kicking down the front door, eh?" Allen asked, sitting in the passenger seat. Ghost picked up his ACR, slid in a clip and primed it, ready to fire.

"Too right, mate." Ghost told him. The rest of them did the same with their weapons, preparing for the fight ahead. Rescue operation. The package was one Gary "Roach" Sanderson. "Let's do it."

They all piled out of the vehicle, except for Ghost. He waited for the assault team to get into position. They stacked up on the side of the building that the van was parked beside, 8 of them in total. Allen was in front, waiting for the signal to execute. Abden put his mask on, securing it tightly around his head. It didn't feel right if he went into battle without it. He checked the comlink, tapping a button on the headset.

"You guys set?" Abden spoke into the microphone. He heard his own voice in his ear.

"On you, Ghost." He heard Allen's voice reply.

Abden took the gear out of neutral and shifted to 1st, easing off of the clutch and stepping on the gas. The van jumped forward a little bit. He stomped on the gas pedal, shifting gears and turning the steering wheel to the left, rounding the corner of the building that the assault team was covered behind. Facing the main entrance into the compound, Abden didn't let up off of the gas. The guards took notice immediately. Confused at first, and then their instincts kicked in. He had to duck down low to keep from getting shot. Bullets pierced the windshield, cracking it and sending off shards of glass. He cleared the distance to the gate, speeding down the road as fast as he could in the van. The windshield shattered completely as rounds slammed into the front of the van. The front bumper was shot to hell. But he didn't slow down. He sped up, forcing the guards on the ground to run and leap for safety. They rolled out of the way just in time.

Abden crashed through the gate, jerking violently and losing control. The van fishtailed, and then rode on two wheels for several seconds. "Shit!". It toppled over onto the roof completely, sliding along the ground before coming to a stop. The guards continued to fire on him.

"Allen!" He yelled into the microphone, unbuckling the seat belt. He fell to the ground, hard. There was little room to move around and he had no idea where the guards were inside the gate. Bullets tagged the ground around the van, suppressing him and rendering him useless. Nothing he could do. He struggled to grab his sidearm, lying at an awkward angle. He aimed out the passenger window and shot several rounds, keeping the attention on him while Allen and his team moved forward. The sound of extra gunfire meant that the assault team was engaging now. Abden couldn't make out anything, trying to squirm his way out of the van. He fired off a few more random shots and crawled his way out of the driver side window. The focus wasn't on him anymore. He was halfway out from under the van, looking around to get a feel of his surroundings.

He could see the eastern side of the gate directly in front of him. No targets. Nothing important. Empty space between the van and that gate. He crawled out a little more and looked to the right, and he could see one of the guard towers, taking heavy fire. One guard was posted up there. Several more were on the ground beneath it, but they were concentrating on the assault team. In the other direction, looking to his left, was the entrance into the compound itself. Two guys, firing at the assault team. Abden was in the center of the open ground, in the center of a battlefield, but he was used to it. War didn't have room for the weak and unwilling. He was putting his life on the line for a fellow warrior, a brother. This was his life.

Abden crawled completely out of the van, crouching and staying low, and grabbed his ACR. He aimed at the pair of guards that were positioned at the entrance to the compound, and fired. The rifle kicked slightly and a small puff of smoke escaped from the tip of the barrel, but the rounds were direct hits. Both of them jerked as the bullets slammed into them. A mist of blood sprayed from them as they died before they hit the ground.

"Ghost, your status!" He heard Allen ask. Allen's voice was loud in his earpiece.

"I'm good!" He said back.

Abden posted up on the side of the van, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. He targetted one of the guards in the watch tower and burst fired. The guard shook and toppled, falling out of the tower and plummeting to the ground below. Dead before he hit the ground. The assault team poured into the gate, spreading out and engaging the remaining targets. Abden reloaded his ACR and scanned the perimeter. All threats were neutralized.

"Alright. Phase two. Stack up on the entrance." He said over the comlink. He was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking slightly, but he was okay.

They all moved across the open ground at a moderate pace, dust kicking up behind their boots. The guys on the inside were no doubt aware of what was going on. They were lying in wait, most likely. Roach was in there somewhere. They'd have to watch their targets and move fast. A rescue mission is no good if you're dead. Their team stacked up on either side of the double door set. 5 on one side, 4 on the other. Abden was on the right, behind Allen, who would be the first to rush in.

"Sweep and clear." Abden said. "And check your corners." He added.

"Ozone, set the charge." Allen told him. Ozone, one of the older guys in Task Force, had a reputation for being the explosives jocky. He set a small 'bomb' on the door, tapping a set of buttons on it, and then got back into position. Allen did a sight nod, and Ozone hit the detonator.

The small explosion shook the wall and Abden felt the rough vibrations coursing through him. It was a loud bang, ringing his right ear. Dust and debris rushed out in all directions, flying in a wild pattern. Abden pushed Allen on the back, slightly, and they rushed inside. He swept his rifle from left to right, registering all targets and focusing on one. It was a big room, but there weren't many hostiles inside it. He stepped to the right and aimed at a guard carrying an Ak-47, firing away. The rounds slammed into his target, hitting the guard with every bullet. Puffs of blood sprayed from the guard's chest and arms, and he died immediately.

"Room clear." Ozone said.

"You all go that way." Abden said, pointing to five of them, and then pointing towards a hallway to the right. "Ozone takes point. The rest of you, on me." He spoke loudly and clearly, making sure that everyone understood. He swept his hand forward, signalling for them to proceed.

Abden and 'the rest of them' headed down the hallway to the left, moving quickly and stepping lightly. Allen was right in from of him, keeping his aim high. A doorway down the hall opened up and a guard rushed out into the hallway. Allen fired his MP5 immediately, making all shots count. The guard fell to the floor, dead.

"Target down." Allen said. Abden tapped him on the shoulder, signalling for him to keep moving.

"Stack up on that door." Abden told them, pointing to the one that the guard had rushed out of. They walked down the length of the hall, weapons raised and ready. As they stacked up on the doorway, Abden could hear movement from inside. More guards. More kills.

"Flash and clear." He said. Allen grabbed a flashbang and primed it, then tossed it into the room. The grenade had a muffled sound to it as it detonated, and they rushed inside, firing. A guard was raising his weapon up, ready to shoot at them. Abden fired 5 rounds and killed the guard before he had a chance to, neutralizing the threat immediately. Return fire splintered the wall beside Abden and he crouched low to avoid getting hit, moving forward behind a turned over desk for cover. The sound of gunfire was loud inside the building, and he couldn't hear anything but weapon discharge. He aimed over the desk and fired at a guard with a machine gun. The rounds missed, slapping the wall behind the guard, harmlessly. It earned him a spray of gunfire from the machine gunner. Heated bullets flew over his head. The wood on the desk was cracking and splintering. He took a deep breathe.

Abden aimed again, centering the sights on the machine gunner, and fired again. This time, he hit the target. A clean headshot, killing the guard before he even began to fall.

"Room cleared!" Allen called out.

Abden stood back up, reloading his ACR, and tapped a button on his comlink.

"Ozone, what's your status?" He asked.

"Negative precious cargo." Ozone replied.

"Keep moving. And check those corners." Then he turned off the microphone. "We gotta keep moving. Roach is in here somewhere."

* * *

Gary had heard the sound of gunfire well before he heard the sound of a vehicle crashing outside. He'd been to weak to even care at the time. But now that he heard gunfire inside the building, his energy had instantly returned to him. His first thought was that these guys had pissed off the wrong people. But then he realized what it was. And his first thought was still accurate. No, it was wrong. These guys had pissed off the _absolute _wrong group of people. That group of people had no choice but to be Ghost and the 141. He had no idea where the short guy with the sister and the suit had went off to. Or the woman, either. They probably fled out the back door.

The door to the room was closed now. He couldn't see a thing, but he could hear gunfire right outside. There were loud thumps as bodies hit the floor. Gary tried to get to his knees, but couldn't. The guy with the sister and the suit had beaten the hell out of him. But they didn't get a word from him. His ribcage felt as if it'd been crushed. Footsteps approached the door. There was a loud bang as someone kicked the entire door down to the floor. Several guys rushed in, securing the room.

"We got somethin' here. Oh, damn, that's Roach!" Gary heard the shortest one say. Allen.

"Roach! You okay?" Ghost asked, helping him up off of the floor.

"I don't know. How do I look?"

"Like shit. The usual. Come on, we're getting you out of here."


End file.
